FIRE SPARKS

The bonfire's in full swing now, the flames casting flickering shadows across the clearing. The pack's energy is high-laughter, music, and the occasional howl from the younger kids showing off. I'm still riding the high from Sierra talking to me first, but I'm not out of the woods yet. The bet's still on, and Dakota, Oliver, and Cameron are circling like vultures, waiting for me to slip up. I need to keep Sierra's attention without looking like I'm trying too hard, and I've got to dodge the leeches who are already creeping closer now that Dakota's distracted. Sierra and Skylar are at the food table, piling plates with burgers and chips. Skylar's keeping her head down, like she's trying to blend into the background, but Sierra's scanning the crowd, her eyes sharp and curious. Every now and then, she glances my way, and I swear it's like she's testing me. Does she know I'm watching her? Probably. She's not the type to miss much. "Yo, Sam, you gonna make a move or just stare all night?" Oliver whispers, tossing a marshmallow at my head. I catch it and chuck it back, harder. "Chill, I've got this," I say, but my stomach's twisting. The bet's rules are a minefield: I can't approach her again until she initiates, but I need to be the first guy she talks to for the rest of the night. That means keeping every other dude in this clearing away from her. Not an easy task when half the pack's teenage guys are already stealing glances her way. Mateo's still nearby, talking to Skylar now, probably convincing her to stick around. Good. If Skylar stays, Sierra's more likely to. I catch his eye, and he gives me a subtle nod, like he's doing me a favor. I owe him big time. "Alright, plan," I mutter to myself, cracking my knuckles. I need to stand out without breaking the rules. The pack's storytelling circle is about to start-Dad's favorite tradition, where the warriors spin tales of old battles or the pack's history. It's the perfect chance to show off without directly hitting on Sierra. If I can tell a story that grabs her attention, maybe she'll come to me. I weave through the crowd, dodging a couple of cheerleader types who giggle my name, and make my way to Dad. He's by the fire, talking to Sierra's uncle, a broad-shouldered guy with a scar across his jaw. I've seen him around, but he's not a talker. Sierra's aunt is next to him, her eyes warm but watchful. They're definitely sizing up the pack, probably for Sierra's sake. "Hey, Dad," I say, keeping my tone casual. "You picking storytellers tonight, or can I volunteer?" He raises an eyebrow, his alpha senses probably picking up on my ulterior motive. "You want the spotlight, huh? What's the angle, Sam?" "No angle," I lie, flashing a grin. "Just feeling inspired. Thought I'd tell the one about the rogue pack ambush from '05. You know, the one where you took down their leader?" He chuckles, but his eyes flick to Sierra, who's now sitting with Skylar on a log near the fire. Yeah, he knows exactly what I'm doing. "Alright, kid. You're up first. Don't embarrass me." "Never," I say, saluting him. Step one: secured. As the pack starts gathering in a loose circle around the fire, I take a spot near the center, close enough to Sierra's line of sight but not directly in her face. Dakota and the guys settle nearby, smirking like they're waiting for me to crash and burn. I ignore them, focusing on the crowd. The younger kids are up front, eyes wide, while the warriors lean back, ready to heckle. Sierra's watching now, her expression curious but guarded. Skylar's next to her, picking at her food, but I catch her glancing at me too. Interesting. Dad claps his hands, silencing the chatter. "Alright, pack, time for stories. Sam's kicking us off tonight. Let's see if he's got anything worth hearing." A few laughs ripple through the crowd, and I stand, brushing off my jeans. "So, picture this," I start, letting my voice carry. "It's 2005, and our pack's on high alert. A rogue pack's been sniffing around our borders, picking off our scouts. My dad-your alpha-gets word they're planning a full-on ambush. Middle of the night, under a blood moon." I pause, letting the kids gasp dramatically. Sierra's leaning forward slightly, her eyes locked on me. Gotcha. I dive into the story, painting the scene: the tension, the snarls in the dark, Dad leading the charge. I throw in some flair-describing the rogue leader's glowing eyes, the way Dad's claws ripped through him like paper. The crowd's eating it up, and I'm in my element, pacing, gesturing, making it epic. "And when the dust settled," I finish, "our pack stood tall, not a single warrior lost. That's why we train, why we stick together-because no one messes with us and walks away." The crowd cheers, and the kids start begging for another story. Dad's grinning, proud but trying not to show it. I glance at Sierra, and she's clapping lightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. Skylar's clapping too, but her eyes are on Mateo, who's giving her a thumbs-up. I sit down, heart pounding. That went better than expected. Now I just need Sierra to take the bait. The guys are whispering, probably plotting how to screw me over, but I'm not worried. Yet. The next storyteller's up-a warrior named Gabe, who's spinning a tale about a ghost wolf in the mountains. I use the distraction to scan the crowd. A couple of guys from the junior warriors are edging toward Sierra and Skylar, probably thinking they're smooth. Shit. If they talk to her before she talks to me again, the bet's toast. I catch Dakota's eye and jerk my head toward them. He smirks, then strolls over, clapping the guys on the shoulders and steering them toward the drink cooler with some loud joke. Crisis averted. For now. Gabe's story wraps, and Dad calls for a break. People start milling around, grabbing food or dancing to the music. Sierra and Skylar stay put, talking quietly. I'm dying to go over, but the bet's rules are ironclad. Come on, Sierra, make a move. Then, like a gift from the moon, she stands, brushes off her jeans, and heads my way. My pulse spikes. She stops a few feet from me, hands in her pockets, that same half-smirk on her face. "Not bad," she says, nodding toward the fire. "You tell a good story." "Thanks," I say, keeping my cool even though I'm screaming internally. "You got any stories from your pack? Bet you've got some wild ones." Her smirk widens, but her eyes are guarded. "Maybe. But I don't spill secrets to just anyone." "Fair," I say, leaning back against the log. "Guess I'll have to earn it." She raises an eyebrow, like she's weighing me up. "Guess you will." Before I can say more, Skylar calls her name, waving her over to where Mateo's setting up a game of cornhole. Sierra gives me a quick nod, then heads back. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Holy shit, I'm still in the game. Dakota slides up next to me, grinning like an idiot. "You're sweating, man. She's got you rattled." "Shut up," I mutter, but I can't stop smiling. Sierra's playing it cool, but she's interested. I can feel it. Now I just need to keep the momentum-and make sure no one else steals her attention before the night's over.